Vicious ☢ Theo Raeken

t h r e e

"I keep having this feeling like there's pieces missing. Holes in my memory." Scott complained standing opposite Deaton, who was examining a teal glass shard, holding it with pincers.

It freaked me out that apart from occasional dark memory eclipse, I started experiencing the same things as Scott.

"Like this," he motioned to the glass shard, "I took that from a windshield at the Sheriff's Impound lot, but I can't remember why I was there."

"I remember that I was told this story, but -"

"But it wasn't me who told Silvie." Scott finished.

"And you can't remember who?" Deaton mumbled, still examining the shard.

"No." I muttered, looking down.

"The subconscious can be a conduit for our memories. Dreams and waking dreams can be powerful tools to help us remember."

"Do you think this is all connected?" Scott asked. "The Ghost Riders, the Wild Hunt, the holes?"

"The Wild Hunt are drawn to war and mayhem. I've never heard of it doing anything to anyone's memory." Deaton passed the pincers with a shard to Scott. "It's almost like you two have a form of Phantom Limb syndrome."

The name made me raise an eyebrow. I'm not missing any limbs. At least for now.

"It's common in war." Continued Deaton, "Amputees can have the sensation of an itch they can't scratch or a pain that couldn't possibly be there. The missing limb is so important, the brain acts like it's still there."

"So..." I began, "the subconscious is trying to tell us what's missing?"

"It may be."

"How the hell do we figure out what it's saying?" Scott asked, his brows furrowing.

"Well, the easiest way to do that would be to simply go to sleep."

I sighed heavily, too much information making my brain explode.

Deaton turned his head to me. "What about you, Silvie? Are you coming to terms with your alter ego?"

I raised my round eyes to the man, trying to say something that wouldn't be so dismal.

"Not really." I mumbled finally, deciding that it's for the best if I tell the truth. "I keep having these... moments, when this weird feeling just overwhelms me, and I want to - I just want to - rip something apart."

I couldn't bear to look at Scott who discretely eyed me with pity in his eyes.

"For a normal werewolf the mood swings pass with time and practice, but with you, I think it may take more than that." He said, trying not to sound too harsh. "In my opinion, you need a real strong anchor."

I could see that he didn't want to say anything that would relate 'anchors', but just as me, he knew that it's better to place everything on the table, seeing that my supernatural case took a different, more malicious turn from the start.

I bite my lip ever so slightly. "Too bad he's gone."

I didn't see but I sensed how Scott squirmed uncomfortably. "Silvie..."

I didn't say anything, neither did he.

What's the point to talk about it if the person is already gone and there are no possible ways I could ever lay my eyes on him again.

~

I came home in the evening and after eating another slice of my mom's pie - a girl can treat herself, okay - I went to shower and straight to bed, with my Harajuku Sailor Moon pajamas.